


Anything For You

by rae_is_typing



Series: Rae's One Shots [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Accidental overdose, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Chris is a softy, Concussions, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crying, Homework, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Overdose, Seb is too, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Teddy Bears, This is heavy, being overworked, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae_is_typing/pseuds/rae_is_typing
Summary: You’re struggling. Between school and the movie making process, your blood is made of stress and the only way you can get any sort of rest is by taking sleeping pills. One night, you take too many.





	Anything For You

**Author's Note:**

> This one is heavy. Please don't read this if you are triggered by self-hatred, overdosing or hospitals.

Your tired eyes leer at your computer screen. Ugly, ugly math stared back at you. You sigh, rubbing your eyes. This assignment was due at midnight. It was already 11 PM and you had barely started.

_I'm so fucked. Why am I so stupid? I bet third graders can do better than me on this shit._

You thought, shoving your computer to the back of the shitty hotel desk. Groaning, you lay your head on the table.

_My parents were right. I'm just a dumb kid, I can't even do dumb math problems. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

You pick up your head and drop it back down to the desk a few times, trying to get the gears to start turning. Or give yourself a mild concussion. Whatever came first.

You sit up, rubbing your forehead a little and look around the hotel room you're in. It was small with a queen bed in the middle of the room. It was nice. Of course it was nice, one of the biggest movie franchises had paid for it. You were lucky to get your own room. The hotel was overbooked, so some actors had to pair up. Your room was between Sebastian and Chris’s room and Robert’s room- three people that would fight (and possibly die) for you. It made sense though, they would do the same for most of Civil War’s cast. But you brought out their more protective sides. That also made sense- you were still a kid, barely 16 years old and already trying to figure shit out on your own.

_Kids shouldn’t have to get emancipated at 15 even if they can afford it. You thought bitterly. Kids shouldn’t hate themselves. Kids shouldn’t be this stressed._

You couldn’t do this shit anymore. School was kicking your ass. So was this god damn press tour. You couldn’t get one plain day off. It was always work work work and school school school. Even worse is the fact that you went from an honors student with a perfect 4.0 to flunking three of four classes. 

_Maybe I’m just a fucking failure. Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead. Maybe I should just give up. I can’t do this anymore, fuck. This is too much. All of it is too much. I’m never going to this shit right. I’m too fucking stupid. Too dumb to do a fucking math problem. _

Tears prick at your eyes. You hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight off the inevitable sobs. You hate crying, it makes you feel dumb and even more childish. Your breathing only picked up and you began hitching out quiet sobs.

_I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t I can’t I don’t wanna do this I can't do it any longer._

You couldn’t breath as you sobbed in your hands. You could never catch a break. It was all too much. You had no time for anything else, just work and school. No time for friends outside of the cast. Hell, you barely had time for the people in the cast and you felt awkward when you wanted to spend time with them because you were 16 and everyone but Tom was almost twice your age. And sure, Tom was nice or whatever, but he was also an adult that didn’t need a fucking chaperone accompanying him if they wanted to go down the road to get away from set. 

You did know that stress was going to be high and there really wouldn’t be a lot of time to relax and take it easy going into the movie, but you seriously overestimated your ability to handle this level of stress. The late nights, early mornings, always needing to be perfect at everything; it was killing you.

Why do I have to keep doing this? I can’t do it anymore I can’t. I need a break. 

You sobbed for a good few minutes before dissolving into a coughing fit. You glanced at the alarm clock on the table. It was 11:30 PM. You choked another sob out, realizing that you were definitely failing this assignment. 

You cry your way through the math, answering all the questions wrong and just turn in the assignment. 

_Giving up again? Nothing new. Fucking idiot. Suck it up and do it, you privileged fuck. Stop being such a fucking baby and maybe you’d actually get somewhere._

You wiped your eyes aggressively. You weren’t getting anywhere by crying like a baby. 

_Might as well just go to sleep. I can’t even do that without help, fuck._

You stood up from the desk chair and made your way to your bags. You pulled out an opaque black makeup bag and looked through it. There was an empty bottle of sleeping pills sitting in it. 

_Empty of fucking course. Can’t even keep track of simple things. Idiot._

There were a lot of stores around the hotel you were in, but it was almost midnight. And as a 16 year old girl, you had to be accompanied by a chaperone over the age of 25 if you wanted to go somewhere off set or outside the hotel. Even though you are emancipated, there was still a lot of legal risks Marvel was just not going to take with you. 

Everyone else was likely asleep at this point. You had to be up at 5 AM to catch your flight the next morning. You could just not sleep tonight, but after that crying spell, you knew you needed to. The only problem was that you couldn’t sleep without help and you had no more pills left. 

Besides, no one would agree to go with you to a store to get anything they didn’t perceive as an absolute necessity. Unless…

You pulled out your phone and sent a message to Chris, someone you knew would be up, especially because he had to share a room with Sebastian. They acted like school girls when they were together. 

_you: hey you up_  
_cap cap cap: yeah whats up?_  
_you: can you come to a store with me?_  
_cap cap cap: it's a little late for that kid. can it wait till morning? we have to be up in 5 hours for the flight_  
_you: I need girl stuff and none of the others are up_  
_cap cap cap: meet me outside of our rooms seb is coming too_  
_you: k thanks_> 

You slipped on a sweater, grabbed your wallet and phone and made your way to the lobby. Sure enough, Sebastian and Chris were standing there, both in sweats and sweatshirts. You offered a sheepish smile.

"Thanks guys,” You say. They smile back at you.

"No thanks needed, kid. You have needs." Chris says.

Sure, you felt bad about lying about the real reason you wanted to go to a store. But it was either leave and get a bit of sleep or stay and not sleep at all.

"There's a small convenience store a few blocks west," Sebastian says, looking up from his phone.

"Where the fuck is west?" Chris asks.

"That way," Sebastian responds, pointing in a general direction. Chris frowned, looking down at your blank face.

"Y/N?" Chris asks. Your head snaps up at the sound of your name.

"Yeah?"

"You usually tell me to 'watch my fucking language' when I swear."

"Oh, sorry." You clear your throat. “Watch your fucking language, Evans.” You say without the usual fervor.

"You feeling okay, doll?" He asks,moving to place a hand on your forehead.

"Yeah, fine. Girl shit," You duck away from his hand, moving in the direction Seb was pointing. 

Chris draws his eyebrows together, trying to read you. But his small investigation was cut short by a loud group of drunk, and possibly high, men stumbling out of a bar. It was pretty early for people to be this shit faced. 

They were stumbling, shoving each other in a bunch of different ways and laughing, whooping and yelling incoherently. You watched as one threw up over the road, only being supported by one of his buddies who appeared to be as drunk as he was.

"Y/N, stay close." Sebastian says, putting an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. Chris moves closer to the both of you, covering the side of you that was left vulnerable. 

The group parted like the red sea when the three of you walked towards them. Apparently they weren't drunk enough to pick a fight with people that could quite literally rip them apart.

You looked up at Chris and Sebastian. Their faces were stone cold, clearly intimidating to anyone that looked at them, even their friends. It was a far cry from the warm smiles they usually dawned. You glanced around to see one of the guys in the group ogling you. He locked eyes with you, licked his lips then bit down on his bottom one. You moved closer to Sebastian, turning your face into his side. He shot a glare at the guy who immediately called for his buddies that had moved on to wait for him. You wrap your arms around your stomach and settled into a nice walking pace.

"Are you okay?" Sebastian asks softly, looking down to you and rubbing your shoulder with his thumb. You simply nodded, fixing your gaze to the sidewalk in front of you.

"That was gross. What kinda person stares at a girl walking down the street?" Chris asks. You knew that if it wouldn't get him in serious trouble, he'd fist fight that guy. 

The rest of the walk was of Chris trying to cheer you up a bit. He told you funny stories of him and his buddies, of the cast on past tours, and just about anything he thought would get you to laugh. Nothing was working. 

Sebastian held the door for you as you went in. Chris and Sebastian followed you in, waiting for your wordlessly as you picked up what you needed. The only occupant was a lonely, very tired clerk sitting at the counter looking like he was going to sleep for weeks when he got off shift. You shopped pretty quickly, grabbing a few candy bars, a bottled drink, tampons, some generic brand Tylenol and a pack of sleeping pills before heading to the zombie clerk.

"You have to buy Naloxone with this purchase because you're buying an acetaminophen. Store policy." His dead eyes bore into you as you pulled some money from your wallet.

You give a small nod of acknowledgment. He rings up the box and throws the Naloxone in the small plastic bag with all of your other items. You hand him some cash and he gives you your change.

"Ready?" Chris asks, yawning slightly.

"Yeah," You felt the way zombie clerk looked: tired and totally fucking dead inside.

The three of you walked back to the hotel at the same pace as before. This time it was silent. The walk lasted about the same time, 10 minutes or so each way. The three of you took the stairs up to the third floor.

You held the door to the stairs open for them.

“Thanks again, guys. I really appreciated this.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” Chris smiles sleepily. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Get some rest.” Sebastian says, moving to hug you goodnight. You wrapped your arms around Sebastian's neck and he wrapped his arms around your back. He was warm and smelled like old spice. It was nice and you felt safe. Safe enough to want to spill your heart out, safe enough to tell him what you've been thinking, how you've been so hard on yourself with no good results. You want him to help you. You want him to tell you that everything was going to work out and that you'll be okay. But you don't. You simply let go and hug Chris.

Chris was warmer than Sebastian, and he smelled like soft mint. You felt just as safe. Tears pricked your eyes; you really didn't want to go back to your room and be alone. You wanted to stay with them and talk or listen to them talk. Just being around them makes you feel a little better.

But you let go. You willed your tears away and thanked them one last time before going to your room, unaware that the two men had stayed in the hallway.

You walked down the small entryway and set your bag on the desk by your laptop bag. You pulled out the sleeping pill, popped two in your hand and swallowed them dry. You stayed seated at the desk. A stack of failed papers sat adjacent to the laptop bag. Frowning, you picked them up, barely able to make out the critiques in the dull light of your hotel room. Red pen was scribbled on a paper that you had wrote reviewing FDR's presidency.

45%. You had received a 45 % on this essay. It took you almost two weeks to write and you got a 45%.

_I'm fucking useless. I can't even write an essay right._

You moved on to another essay you had written, This was your worst, You got a 30% on it. 30% was the lowest grade you had gotten on something that you put genuine effort into.

_God, why do I even try anymore. What's the point of school. I should just drop out, fuck. I should focus on acting. I can at least do that okay._

A drop of water fell on the paper in front of you, smearing the red ink that covered the page. Huh. You didn't even realize you were crying.

_I’m just a dumb baby. Why do I try anymore? I should go home. My parents were right about me. I'll never be good enough, I should just go home._

Your breathing sped up and you choked on your sobs in a weak attempt to stay quiet.

_Why aren't the pills working? I want to sleep._

You fumbled with the packaging of the pills, four more falling into your hands. You throw them in your mouth and swallow them dry. 

Your hands start to burn. It blossoms through your arms and through your chest, moving down to your feet. Your head throbs as though someone is leading a marching band through your cerebral cortex. You wince, rubbing your temples.

The pounding gets stronger and stronger until you can’t take it. You reach for the plastic shopping bag on your desk. You snatch the painkillers from it, rip off the packaging on grab a small handful. Without thinking, you shoved them into your mouth and swallowed. 

You couldn’t breath. They had gotten stuck while you attempted to swallow them. You needed water. You spotted your water bottle on the nightstand. You jumped up and rushed over to the nightstand, you tripped on something. The world is a blur around you as your forehead collides with the sharp corner of the wooden table. You yelp, sucking in a sharp breath. You push your head into your hands, putting pressure on the wound. 

The pain moves quickly. Soon, all you could think about was the burning and the pounding in your head. You push yourself against the small space between the wall and the nightstand, head still held by your hand. 

You heard three dull thumps resonate through the room. Then you heard your name. More thumps then nothing. The pain was the only thing on your mind. That and the fact that your hands and cheeks were wet and beginning to grow sticky.

_Why are my hands wet? I cry from my eyes, not my forehead. Oh, fuck this hurts._

You didn't know how much time had passed from the thumping and someone pulling at your hands. You didn't try to resist them. You were fading. Everything was blurry, the blob in front of you reminded you of your friend Chris. He was a real cool guy with very pretty eyes. But there were two of the colored blobs and Chris didn't have a twin so it couldn't be him.

Then you were being laid down on your side with your arms being manipulated. You tried to keep your eyes open but you were tired and in pain. You wanted it to go away. 

_Why isn’t it going away?_

_____________________

You reminded Chris of a puppy- energetic, affectionate and adorable in a way that only young and small things could be.

So he knew that something was up when you walked out of your hotel room with red and puffy eyes. This was more than pain and your hormones being out of whack. The walk confirmed his suspicions. You were quite- too quiet. You barely spoke. You barely looked at the two of them.  
The hug made him want to stay with you for the rest of the night and talk. You almost cried when you hugged him. The only time you ever cried was when you had to for a scene.  
Truth be told, he didn't want to let you go. He holds you tightly, even when you loosen your grip on him.

"There's something wrong, man," Chris said after the door to your room closed. "She never cries."

"She's probably in pain. We aren't girls, but we’ve heard how painful periods can be."

"This is different."

"Let's talk to her in the morning, She's probably stressed and in pain,"

Chris relented, following Sebastian to their room and laying in his bed, He didn't get to sleep at all. He doesn't know how much time had passed before he heard a loud thump and a yelp through the wall. He sat up, throwing the covers off of him. That was from your room. He bit his lip and stood up, slipping on some slide on shoes, he went to your room next door.

He knocked, "Y/N?" He knocked more. "Are you okay? Can you let me in, hon? I want to talk to you."

No answer. He frowned. He tried one more time. Nothing, again. Chris looked around the hall while he waited impatiently for you to answer. His heart began to pump a little faster and something tugged in his gut. He needed to make sure you were okay and you really weren’t making it easy. After nothing happened again, he went down the stairs and to the front desk. Unsurprisingly, the front desk was empty. He rang a small bell they had. A tired young woman came from the back.

"Hi, how can I help you?" 

'I lost the card to my room, can I get a new one?" Chris quickly lied. 

"Sure, what room?"

"321."

She pulled out a key and magnetized it. In any other situation, he would be appalled that this woman didn't ask for his name or even check that he was the right occupant of the room, but he was grateful for it now.

He practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, opened the door and walked in. It was dark, the only thing lighting the room was the lamp on the desk.

He fully expected to see you asleep on the bed and confirm that the thump and yelp was something else. But the only thing on the bed was your wallet and phone. He frowned, looking around. The bathroom door was open and you weren't there.

He turned, looking around some more. Then he saw you. You were curled up between the nightstand and the bed. Your hands were cradling your forehead in shaking hands.

"Y/N, sweetie? Are you okay? Did something happen?" He spoke gently, trying not to startle you.

You didn't even look up at him. He crouched down by you, gently pulling a hand away from your face. It was shaking horribly and covered in a red substance he prayed wasn't blood. He pulled the other one away too. This one was drenched in what was most definitely blood and shaking as well. Your face was covered in it; it was dripping down your cheeks, over your nose, in your hair and even on your clothes.

"Y/N? Oh, my god! What happened to you?" He asked, brushing some hair that got caught in the mess away from your face. 

You eyes were heavily lidded and unfocused. You were staring him in the face but it was like he wasn't there. Then he looked at your face closer. Your lips were turning purple.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, patting his pockets for his phone. He stood up from his crouched position he quickly grabbed your phone, opened emergency contacts and dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?" A woman answered.

"Something is wrong with my friend. Her head is covered in blood, she's shaking uncontrollably, and her lips are turning purple, I need an ambulance."

"Okay, what is your location?"

"W Hotel on west seventh and main. Hurry, please." Chris begged, pacing in front of your limp body.

"Okay, we have one en route. What's your name sir?"

"Chris,"

"Okay, Chris. What room are you in?"

"I'm in room 321."

“Is she responsive?"

"No, she's just staring at me. I don't think she knows I'm here," Chris was crying at this point. With tears steadily flowing down his cheeks, he tried to stay calm for you.

"Did she consume any dangerous substances?"

"I-I don't know. Fuck, how far is the ambulance?"

"They're almost there."

"Okay, please hurry, I think she's dying." Chris choked the last part out. This wasn’t real. There was no way that you, a 16 year old girl had just attempted suicide. 

No way. 

But it was real. You were laying in front of him, dying and he could do nothing about it.

Its takes too long for the medics to get there. But when they do, Chris steps back and panics in  
the corner.

They're leaning over you and asking him things but he can't think. He can't breathe. Everything he knew about managing his anxiety went out the fucking window. 

He ended up riding to a hospital in the same car as you, holding your hand as they stabilized you. When they got to the hospital, he filled out paperwork for you.

Then he waited. 

He was led to a smaller, private waiting room and he sat. And he waited. The rest of the cast came in. Most of them were still in the clothes they had slept in. Sebastian and Robert had gotten their first, awoken by the medics and the noise in the hall. They got in a cab or something and followed the ambulance to the hospital. They just sat together in silence while everyone else trickled in.

Lizzie was crying. Hell, they all were in a state of shock. Chris just sat in a chair in a corner, trying to process what he saw.

_How did she bleed that much? Why was she bleeding in the first place? Was it on purpose? Was it pills? Did she commit suicide? Why didn’t I see it? Is she dead? How could I have let this happen?_ His mind was going a mile a minute, but he sat completely still.

He was obviously oblivious to something because if he had done something earlier than this wouldn't have done this. He could have stopped this from happening. 

The doctor comes in about two hours after everyone arrives. Its 3 AM.

"Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, holding a clipboard.

"Yes, we are." Robert says, standing up. 

"What happened?"

"Is she okay?"

"My name is Dr. Ashby,” He began. "Y/N overdosed on drugs. We pumped her stomach. It's highly unlikely any permanent damage has been done from the pills, but she has fractured a small part of her forehead. We believe that she has a concussion. She's resting right now. We don't know when she'll wake up, but she will be okay."

"Do you think she did it on purpose?" Tom asks softly, eyes glistening and red. 

The doctor sighed. "In my professional opinion, no. There wasn't enough in her system to kill her or do any permanent damage. However, if you want a more accurate opinion, you should ask the officers that went to the hotel or Y/N after she's had some time to recover."

"Thank you Dr. Asby," 

The doctor left. The sounds of sniffling and soft crying still filled the room. Hours ticked by slowly. Too slowly.

"Are you okay, Chris?" Robert asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Chris looked up at him. His dark hair was messy and his eyes were watery like the rest of theirs. Chris sighed and shook his head.

"There was so much blood," He started. "Her lips were purple- she was dying. She didn't even know I was there." Robert sat next to him.

"I was with her before it happened. I could-"

"Don't do that to yourself, Chris. You couldn't have known that this was going to happen."

"I know," Chris rubbed his face, then ran a hand through his hair.

"You found her, and she's going to be okay. That's what matters right now,"  
_____________________

The sound of beeping and ringing woke you up. It was constant, loud and probably the most annoying thing that you could have ever imagined waking up to. You patted your bedside, looking for your phone to turn off the alarm and stop the ringing. The sharp stench of bleach filled your nose, making you cringe. Your hotel did not smell like bleach.

_Something’s wrong._

You opened your eyes, wincing at the bright lights. You brought an arm up cover your eyes only to find that you were hooked up to a machine. A heart monitor was at your side.

_Okay. Why the fuck am I in a hospital? What the fuck? Why does my head hurt so fucking bad?_

You sat up, despite feeling weak. You glanced around and began to panic, half tempted to bolt. You hated hospitals. That was a mistake. With the heart rate speeding up , the heart monitor followed suit. Your head throbbed from the added noise. Lying back down, you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to try and think through whatever the fuck landed you in a hospital with this amount of head pain.

_I was on a walk. It was night and I was with Seb and Chris. I went to a store. I bought some sleeping pills. I took them. Oh, my god. I overdosed. But why does my head hurt so fucking much?_

You tried sitting up again after a few minutes. This time, you did it slow enough and kept calm enough to process everything that happened and why you were in a hospital.

Soon enough, a nurse came in. She smiled gently when she saw you awake. "Hi, Y/N. How are feeling?"

"My head hurts. A lot. What happened?"

"You overdosed on pills and you fractured your forehead I'm going to call your doctor, hang tight." She said, still smiling.

_I overdosed on pills by accident. And broke my skull. Okay. What the fuck. I could have died. Cool. What the fuck is wrong with me?_

You took a few deep breaths as you waited for the doctor. He didn't take long to get there, surprisingly. He was older, had thinning hair and a small beer belly. "Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. My name is Dr. Ashby. How is your head?”

“It hurts. A lot. My ears are ringing”

He nods, writing what you said on a clipboard. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I was on a walk with two of my coworkers and I bought some sleeping pills. I took some and I woke up here.”

“Were you trying to harm yourself at all?”

You shake your head. Another mistake. More pain shot through your head, making your wince, and hold your forehead where the pain was at its worst. “No, no. I just wanted to sleep.”

He gives you another nod, writing that down as well. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

"You overdosed on pills. We don't think any permanent damage was done, but we'd like to run some tests to confirm that," He began, placing his pen in the clipboard. "You hit your head and you likely have a moderate concussion. We'll run some tests for that too." 

"What time is it?" The doctor checks his watch. 

"It is 1 AM." 

"How long was I out?" 

"A little more than a day." 

"When can I leave?" You ask, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice. 

“We’re going to start running some tests, and once those come back we’ll discuss them and after that, we can let you go.”

“How long will that be?”

“We have a few blood tests that need to be run. Those will take a week to ten days to get back. Don’t worry, you don’t have to tay for those. However, we do have to run a couple diagnostics to see what happened to your head. We can have you out tomorrow or the day after. 

You let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. “Thanks Dr. Ashby.”

He asked a series of questions and had you do a series of tasks, confirming that you did give yourself a concussion. After that was done, a nurse came into take your blood. After she left, you laid back in your bed, the ringing in your ears growing louder. 

_Fuck. The media probably has their dirty little paws all over this. Y/N Y/L/N in the Hospital After Overdose. Marvel Actress Dies After Overdose, just kidding she's alive._

You sigh and close your eyes, wishing this was just a bad dream that you could wake up from. But the bandages on your head, the ringing in your ears and the monitors say otherwise. You struggle to fall back asleep, but when you do its fitful and full of unrest.

The morning came too quickly. Visiting hours started at nine and you knew your co-stars and likely a bunch of reporters were going to want to see you. It wasn't that you didn't care about your co-stars- it wasn't that at all. You loved the people you worked with, but you scared of how they were going to react to what happened. 

"Good morning, Y/N," Your nurse said. She was really sweet and wore a smile whenever you saw her. 

"Good morning," You smile back, taking the meds she gave you. 

"Visiting hours begin in 15 minutes. I know you're nervous. Don't worry about any reporters or anyone like that coming in. We've made sure that no one of those sorts are allowed in." That was a huge relief. 

"Thank you," You’re sure you visibly relaxed. 

"You're welcome, dear. Do you need anything else?" 

"No, thanks again," She left the room, leaving you to your own devices. 

At exactly nine in the morning, Chris shuffles into your room with a bear and a small bouquet of sunflowers. 

"Hey," He said softly. He looked rough. His hair was clean but untamed and his eyes were red. He was wearing a sweater and some jeans. You looked back down at the bed because what the fuck were you supposed to say? 

_Hi, I'm so sorry for almost killing myself accidentally. Oops, guess my hand slipped and took too many pills when I was just trying to get to sleep. Yeah, no,_

"How are you feeling?" He pressed when you said nothing, placing a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. You shrugged, picking at the blanket on the bed. 

"C'mon, talk to me. What's been goin' on, kid?" 

"I don't wanna talk about it," You say softly. 

"Not talking about it isn't working," His voice hardened slightly.

"It was an accident," You say, voice cracking. "I didn't mean to, I just wanted to sleep." Chris sighs, laying the flowers and bear on a chairs behind him. 

"Scoot over," He says. You gave him a strange look as he stood above your bed, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I won’t bite. Promise,” 

You scoot to the other side of the bed. He half-sits half-stands and wraps his arms around you, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, mindful of your injury, and cradles your head against his warm chest. He smells like soft mint. You feel safe. More tears well up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him in return. 

"Did you want to hurt yourself?" He was shaking lightly.

"No, I swear. I just wanted to get some sleep. That's it. I don't remember anything but taking a couple pills." He sighed, your head rising and falling with his chest. 

"You scared the shit out of us, kid." His voice wobbled, some tears fell in your hair. "God, don't ever do that again," He buried his face in your hair. You knew he was crying. You were too, the tears flowing freely down your face. 

"I'm sorry," You say softly. "I really didn't mean to." He didn't say anything else, he just held onto you. 

_Maybe I can tell him. He can help. He obviously cares. He wouldn’t show up if he didn’t care about me. Just be honest._

“I was doing homework,” You mumble, hiding your face in his chest. If you were going to tell him what’s been going on, there was no way you could look at him in the face. You’d back out and pretend everything was okay. He didn’t say anything. And if he reacted, you couldn’t see it. 

“I’m failing three of my classes. It was too hard to focus so I just turned it in. I wanted to go to bed so I looked for my sleeping pills, but I ran out. That’s why I asked you to go to the store with me.” You sit up and wipe the tears off your eyes. “I took some and they weren’t working so I took more. Then my hands were burning. That’s all I remember,”

Chris’s arms tightened around you, drawing you back to him. “You hit your head. There was a lot of blood, and your lips turned purple. I thought you were dying.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, breath hitching as you began to cry steadily again.

You spent the next few moments crying into his chest. 

_He must’ve found me. Fuck. Fuck me, fuck me. I’m terrible. _

“I’m so sorry, Chris, I am. I’m sorry,” You sputtered out, clutching his shirt in your hands. 

“I know. I forgive now that you’re okay. Take a deep breath. It’s okay,” He says, running a hand up and down your back. He started to breath melodramatically and you followed suit, soon calming down enough to stop crying. 

"Everyone else wants to see you, but there's a two person limit." 

"Then why'd you come alone?" Chris shook his head, reaching for the bear. He handed it to you.

“A bear?” A brown bear specifically. A brown bear dressed as Captain America with black dark blue buttons for eyes even more specifically.

“Yeah, I thought that if I couldn’t be there for you then another Captain America could,” 

“You know I’m not six, right?” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. 

Chris shrugged, eyes still wet. You leaned over and hugged him again. 

“Thank you,” You say, voice cracking. “For everything.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”


End file.
